


Dressed to Kill

by Shockcakes



Series: Canalave's Secret Archives [6]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: A Very Fashionable Gardevoir, Doggy Style, F/M, Minor Hypnosis (?), Pokephilia, Praise Kink, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:35:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28861908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shockcakes/pseuds/Shockcakes
Summary: In which Calem needs to have the definition of the term "Sugar Daddy" explained to him.
Relationships: Calme | Calem/Sirnight | Gardevoir
Series: Canalave's Secret Archives [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1135304
Kudos: 16





	Dressed to Kill

Calem found her glued to the department store window.

Lumoise City was the kind of hotspot that served as the center of Kalossian fashion. There was no end to the number of clothing stores that many of the posh, upper-class socialites bragged aloud over frequenting. One couldn’t go a single block about the town without stumbling onto some trendy high-end store that has a requirement on how much style a customer has to even window shop.

That didn’t stop Calem’s Gardevoir from trying.

Her gaze transfixed to the display mannequins donned with predominantly fancy dresses serving as an enticing draw to all with low pockets and considerably lower impulse control.

“ _Fleur…_ ” He said her name with a wary tone, not unlike a parent denying their child an impromptu trip to a toy store. “Come on, Fleur. I already bought you all that other makeup-y stuff I had to ask Serena about.”

That was an awkward phone call. Though his prior discomfort from having to be taught what concealer was didn’t stop the Pokemon from pouting.

Pouting with lips caked in fashionably green lipstick. 2050 Pokedollars.

“Noooo.” He warned.

Fleur’s head tilted, the eye that wasn’t masked by her now lavish fluffy hair stared at him pleadingly. 1000 Pokedollars plus an added 800 for the deluxe hairbrush.

“Nope! Home! We’re going now!”

She puffed her cheeks, clad in soft yet fashionable blush. 1500 Pokedollars for a single palette.

He didn’t even know what blush was but it was definitely among the girlish necessities he spent the day buying for her thus far.

Almost ironic that he found himself in the shoes of his mother whom he was able to vividly recall having to keep on a child leash when out shopping. Now he had his own Calem that needed to be dragged away from the shiny thing that caught the eye.

The trainer challenged her, crossed his arms – or rather, he tried to, despite the numerous shopping bags he currently held. Yet still, a good trainer knew when to put his foot down. His eyes narrowed firmly, channeling his inner responsible adult as he regarded his pampered companion.

And then he promptly deflated.

“…Awww, I can’t ever say no to you now can I?”

\--

Calem returned to his bedroom a hapless, shameful, and most importantly _poor_ , man.

Fleur returned to Calem’s room with a wardrobe upgrade.

The meager trainer shuffled to his bed to properly wallow in his weakness with a groan.

Ok. So he was broke now. That pretty much meant no losing battles for a while. He’d have to forsake hotel visits while on the road should he decide to do any traveling. Maybe he could ask Serena for a few dollars to afford a trip to the Pokemart. Then again, he couldn’t be sure if she still trusted him with money after…

 _The Berry Juice Incident_.

“How was _I_ supposed to know her Skiddo got hyperactive from juice anyway?” He mused aloud, as though knowing the answer would’ve put him in a better situation.

Between his frustrated thoughts, his eye turned to the current source of his woes, giddily staring at herself in front of his mirror.

From where he sat, Calem could sense vividly in his mind just how pretty she felt.

Beautiful even.

That new cardigan top complimented her colors in ways she couldn’t have imagined. Then there was the cute turtleneck sweater that she got custom made. A lovely pair of kneesocks that meshed with her natural gown flawlessly. A flowing red scarf in the same color as the ruby horn in her chest. And how could she forget-

Calem shook his head after a moment’s pause, realizing that his easily swayed brain had begun drawing feedback from the emotional radio tower that was Fleur’s mind.

It was less controllable than many would think, often resulting in one or the other conveying strong emotions for the two of them; namely, whoever’s mental influence held strongest between the psychic link Gardevoir shared with their trainers.

Calem…would put up a valiant effort from time to time.

He didn’t mind at the very least. With Fleur sifting through her haul, positive vibes began to permeate the air of his room. Certainly not unwelcome in his current financial dread. Might as well lounge a bit and enjoy the impromptu pick-me-up.

Not many Gardevoir could say that they were able to fancy themselves up like a model. She was already most of the way there if the heaps of fashion magazines at her little corner of his bookshelf were of any indication.

Her hair was so stylishly lush that she could’ve been mistaken for a grass type. Her gown was altered – given more of a slit on her right side, same as the revealed section of her asymmetric hair. It showed in her countenance as well, how easily her posing matched covers done by beauties and fashionistas alike.

An immediate rush of satisfaction resonated to Calem’s head as Fleur posed again in front of the mirror, admiring the way her black thigh high stockings accentuated her form.

…She _really_ liked those stockings.

Like a child opening Christmas presents, Fleur excitedly moved on to another shopping bag. In an instant, the emotional responses her trainer was picking up suddenly grew more…mischievous. As Calem lounged on his bed, he immediately felt awash with a growing restlessness. He couldn’t put his finger on it. His body felt flushed with a spike of sensitivity followed by a strange tingling in the pit of his stomach. He was overcome with a need to remove his jacket, as though the temperature of the room skyrocketed to levels to made him break into a cold sweat.

Yet, above all of that, the trainer experienced what he could only describe as a sort of passionate longing for something. Or perhaps, someone.

He was so distracted by his mood shift that he didn’t notice the riskily dressed Gardevoir standing next to him. In a miraculous instance of mental awareness (by his standards) the first thing Calem noticed was what Fleur had settled on wearing; her now beloved black stockings were accompanied by a matching garter belt, visible by the slit in her gown that displayed a teaser of her lovely hips.

Fleur’s half-lidded eyes locked with her trainer, amplified by the pristine makeup making her appearance all the more striking. Addled by the flurry of emotions she sent his way, Calem did nothing to address the situation he found himself in. Whether or not he _wanted_ to was another query altogether. As she was pleased to teasingly lay herself onto his lap, he was pleased to allow her, empathic link or no.

She cooed wistfully, grabbing his hand and settling it against her cheek. The hapless boy followed her silent request. It was no secret that she had a weakness for his tender caress, slow yet affectionate. 

Fleur yet wasn’t satisfied. A psychic force assertively brought his other hand to her stomach, mimicking the same movements as he did her face. Under her influence, her thrall easily read her expression; face flush with an incredible yearning despite harboring the stare of an impish minx. The kind of stare he could get lost in, forgetting whatever troubles that the Great Alpha in the Hall of Origin saw fit to chortle watching him stumble on.

With Calem eyes gawking over her, Fleur’s next request was almost literally spelled out in his mind.

 _Spoil me_.

Gears began to turn. Lightbulbs switched on. That obstinate Dedenne finally got back on the wheel that was powering his brain.

“Oh. _Oh_ …”

She giggled, no doubt feeling the slow revelation he reached for himself.

A good trainer would be able to reign in their partner’s behavior, putting to rest her attempts at over indulging herself at their expense.

Calem was not that trainer.

As though she were leading him by hand, his palm tamely ran through her hair, pushing up the bangs covering her eye. Her full gaze bore him with a fondness – one that sent a message more insistent than the last.

 _Spoil me **more**_.

Calem huffed. The rise in his body heat matched her’s to a tee. She encouraged his hands to venture further, though that implied he needed to be convinced. They both knew exactly where he was needed.

His interest fell on Fleur’s chest. Much time spent as a modest Kirlia with no claim of her own to the well-endowed supermodel pinup covers had eventually culminated into an evolved Gardevoir with a set that could turn heads.

Perhaps one day Fleur would be able to convince herself that she didn’t develop them out of spite of the signature partner of the famous Kalosian actress.

Her smirk widened as she felt her trainer’s touch – how he kneaded her breast _exactly_ the way she liked. She was partly to blame for that but she couldn’t care less. With a doting glance, she “encouraged” him further. Her massage was soon attended to by both of his affectionate palms. Fleur writhed and cooed, loving every minute of his heavy petting. Her stocking-clad legs squirmed and rubbed against each other as the heat between them only grew.

In a similar boat, Calem’s face was flushed with the blood rushing to his face. Just being close to her was intoxicating. Laying eyes on her wonderfully graceful body was making him hornier by the second. Dizzy and all but drooling, what little coherence the trainer had left muddling around in his mind had gone towards sating her.

Much like her’s towards being sated.

By him.

The lusciously debaucherous act of having her trainer ravish her on his own bed was one thing but the fact that they did so while being in sync was the icing on the cake.

As the heat in Fleur’s loins grew, she began to require his much closer attention, and as expected, Calem was quick to respond. His fingers went at her most delicate spot. A pure, honest to goodness, _moan_ cut through the silence like paper as his two digits parted her walls.

With his palm facing the ceiling, he was to curl them at just the right angle. Fleur's coos of delight eventually gave way to a sharp squeak signaling _that_ spot. The one she struggled to reach with her own fingers. His were brushing against it in seconds. Neither could say where his expertise in technique stemmed from; whether it was more guiding messages unknowingly received from her or if Calem truly possessed some profound knowledge that went under even her notice. It didn’t matter in the end as Fleur had more than her fill of him tending to her and then some.

He departed from her walls, a bridge of her viscous juices connecting her entrance to his digits. A needy whine signaled that she required more of him. _Much_ more. Calem, though half-dead from the neck up, interpreted the same from her pampered face gazing up at him. She had another _request_ for him.

Excusing herself from his lap, Fleur decided to take a page out of the more risqué magazines from her collection. Faced on her front, her upper body lowered until her back curved perfectly. With her lovely Calem behind her, she granted him a well-deserved view of her backside, raised for him to gawk freely. For good measure, a psychic tug at her gown further revealed her at her most vulnerable – decorated with frilly underthings yet still scantily bare. Her head lay on crossed arms, glancing back to him and his dumbfounded expression. It was only a matter of time before her hungry eyes fell on the aroused tent pitched within his trousers.

The beauties that made the front covers always favored this position. Fleur couldn’t imagine why. It took quite the toll on her back, pouring most of her upper weight onto her chest, not to mention her spike. Though in some regard, the reaction she garnered from her mate made the spinal discomfort worth it. She cheekily wiggled her hips for good measure.

The question burning a hole in his libido was how depraved his current predicament truly was – mere seconds away from taking his companion in a scenario of her own design. The nagging voice in the back of his mind whispered that he could answer it after he was done plowing his Gardevoir from behind like a beast in midsummer heat. The loud _demanding_ voice in the base of his genitals agreed, adding not to forget about flipping her over and working that cute mouth like a butter churn until she squealed.

Before he could wonder why his inner thoughts had Fleur’s voice, a bigger plumper problem presented itself to him.

Calem saw his prize awaiting him. Calling out to him even. It could’ve been Fleur’s empathic presence enticing him further or it could’ve been his instinctual attraction to her appearance. In some regard, the young man wasn’t afraid to admit his Gardevoir was utterly gorgeous; her voluptuous figure appealed to his simple, easy to please standards. He was only human after all.

Knowing this, it was difficult to say whether or not his palms found their way to her backside by his or Fleur’s accord. Either way, Calem relished the sensation he felt. Little time was wasted once he focused on massaging the pillowy flesh.

The Gardevoir mewled in surprise as she felt her cheeks being spread. With each second, she grew wetter and needier. She opted to hurry things along, putting her psychic abilities to work on his belt and pants as her trainer remained mesmerized by her backside. From the corner of her eye, Fleur caught his twitching length all but raring to go. She sensed his vigor, matched in perfect sync by her lust. There was only one outcome to expect.

Balancing himself on his knees, an experimental prod heralded the parting of her outermost walls. Calem’s already foggy mind was awash with the sensation of her insides clinging to him on entry. Fleur’s excited squeaks crescendoed into a passionate groan.

“F-Fleur…” The young man didn’t know what coaxed him to speak but he had a solid guess in mind. “You’re…amazing!”

He was unable to see the blush burning on her face but the fulfillment garnered from it was potent enough to resonate. Like a switch being flipped, a new intent arose.

“You’re…such a good girl.” He smiled earnestly, unsure if his words were a result of her influence but uncaring either way. “You’ve made yourself look so pretty.”

Fleur shuddered from his praise. Calem felt her shudder. The everpresent rush of satisfaction and glee was enough to make _him_ blush. He seized the moment to thrust his length as far as her insides allowed.

Calem grasped two generous handfuls of her backside. In little time, he found his rhythm, pulling away before returning with enough force to rock the foundations of his bed. Fleur pressed her face into her arms, her breathing now in the habit of hitching just before each thrust.

“You feel… _wonderful_.” Calem blurted, freely giving himself away to the mindless haze enthralling him.

The air hung heavy with Fleur's intense passion, her lust filling the room like a smoke cloud. The fervor of their union was magnified twice over as their shared senses caused every tingle and shudder to bounce between them in mutual bliss. Plunging and squeezing, their passions soared higher than Rayquaza's domain as their lust grew exponentially.

Calem’s hips _rammed_ into her, to the point where it seemed as though Fleur’s telekinesis meeting him halfway doing the work for him. Their breathing was in perfect sync with the two hissing sharply in between movements. His eyes hazy and halfway close to shutting, the trainer gazed down at her face; Fleur gripped the sheet by the handful, biting her lip as the pale white of her face burned an intoxicated red.

He didn’t need a psychic link to make it clear that he was close to what was sure to be a glorious finish. Calem sensed desperation from her while they still reveled at their conjoined pleasure. She desired this moment to last forever yet he felt her yearning for the conclusion. A fittingly literal meaning to the phrase “mixed signals” came to his mind.

Thankfully, as she wasn’t the only one about to burst, Calem chose for her.

His grip on her backside stiffened – leaving marks that her gown will unquestionably struggle to hide the next time they go out in public. There was more fervor in his thrusts and with them, Fleur was cried out. Presumably for more. His brow was drenched in sweat, his brunette hair needing to be swiped away from his eyes every so often so that he could keep beholding his beautiful Fleur.

Calem felt her entrance completely _tighten_ around him. Each subsequent push required more and more effort. Muscles tensed. His breathing held weight as the young man dutifully kept pace. The pressure in his loins all but begged for release, with his partner not far behind.

“Jeeze, Fleur…I can _feel_ you.” He caught her glancing back at him with a cheeky gleam in her eye. Almost jolting his body involuntarily, the first spurt of seed jettisoned into her entrance. A precursor for the impending finish. “Yeah I’m…I’m definitely… _yeeeah_ there it is.”

With one final crash of Calem’s hips, the rest of his climax flowed in force. The searing white pleasure had Fleur gripping clumps of the bedsheet by the mouthful. Hot, _wet_ fullness overtook her innards. It didn’t take long for her own juices to mix with his, oozing from her leg and onto the sheets. It was surely going to be fun explaining those wet spots to his mother.

Calem didn’t remove himself right away, riding out both of their orgasms in comforting bliss. The stranglehold that controlled his senses had lifted. Fleur’s cacophony of emotions, while still potent, now faded into a manageable stream of joyful contentedness. After what felt like the first time in an age, he allowed his muscles to relax before promptly becoming her unintentional big spoon.

He sighed into her neck, regretting that the glorious high of sex had faded. “Your hair smells nice.” Calem muttered wistfully, hearing her low giggle in response. He couldn’t help but feel disappointed when she turned to face him, stripped so suddenly of the comfort he was just subjected to, but his inner griping didn’t last as a replacement presented itself to him.

The gleam in her coquettish eyes made her message plain and obvious: she needed more. More sweet nothings being whispered into her ear as her trainer spent another round taking her in more ways she could dream up.

Gorgeous Fleur and her masterfully adorned makeup – her lovely lips caked in fashionably green lipstick. Her hair, still lavish and fluffy despite their long session of lovemaking. Even her blush miraculously stuck to her beautified features. It was all starting to make sense why all those beauty products were so expensi-

“Hey. _Heeey_.” The proverbial emptiness of his wallet anchored in his mind long enough to take advantage of her weakened transmission of emotions. His sense of reasoning, despite its weaker presence in his mind, finally seized a spot at the driver’s seat. “You’re not winning me over _that_ easily, young lady.” He chastised, channeling his inner responsible adult at the pleading look in Fleur’s eye.

At least, before her pout caused the familiar outcome to occur.

“Why do I love spoiling you so much?”


End file.
